


long legs poofy pants makes a man go

by witchofspaz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Polyamory, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofspaz/pseuds/witchofspaz
Summary: In which Dave discovers a heretofore unknown feature of Dirk's god tier pajamas, and a whole lot of nonsense (and a little bit of porn) ensues.(not joke fic, despite the dumb premise and even dumber title)





	long legs poofy pants makes a man go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [centaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaur/gifts).



> BIRTHDAY FIC FOR MY BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED BEST FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love u so much laura thank u for being my best friend and writing partner and pushing me to expand outside my comfort zone w/ my writing and teaching me about dirk so that i could start to feel comfortable writing him. this was supposed to be just a very silly thing but then dirk had feelings about his masculinity and i hope you know that is your fault
> 
> anyway re: the actual fic this is meant to be set when they're 19ish, in the fairly early stages of a dirkdavekat poly triad (not tagged bc karkat isn't in the fic) and i'm conveniently ignoring the fact that they don't appear to keep wearing their god tier getups after they win the game bc laura once told me something Interesting about her old dirk cosplay and i wanted to incorporate it into porn

Dave lands on his back with a whoomph, and props himself up on his elbows to watch Dirk climb over him, knees to either side of his hips and hands pushing at his shoulders so he’s lying flat on the bed again. He grins up at Dirk’s intense expression (this is still new, and a little scary for both of them, and Dirk is so cautious that Dave sometimes has to work to get him to have fun with it), so his lips are already parted when Dirk’s mouth covers his. Dirk’s tongue slides in and he sucks at it, enjoying the responding push of Dirk’s body against his. His hands move like they’re magnetized to Dirk’s thighs, making a brief pit stop to squeeze his ass through the ridiculous pants. He loves the way Dirk’s legs feel in his god tier getup: silky smooth fabric over hard muscle and body heat. He loves how the shadow of dark skin is just barely visible under the nearly opaque white knit. Dirk kisses along his jaw and onto his neck, sucking at the sensitive spot below his ear, and his moan of approval wavers when his hand slides up the cuff of Dirk’s poofy pants and feels… skin?

“Dirk?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs distractedly, pushing Dave’s shirt up to get hands on bare skin.

“Are these… thigh highs?” Dave feels around a little, and feels a distinct edge to the silk where it borders on hot skin. “Like stockings?” Dirk twitches under his fingers, and doesn’t lift his head, though his mouth and hands have stopped moving.

“Yes?”

Don’t laugh, Dave, don’t laugh. “Cool,” Dave says, voice cracking. This is not the time. Just let it go, he tells himself silently. It doesn’t work. “Are there garters anywhere in this mix?”

Dirk lifts his head and regards Dave with a withering stare. “No, Dave, I am not wearing garters, or a garter belt, or lace panties, before you ask.”

A grin spreads slowly, wickedly over Dave’s face. “I don’t know if I believe you, dude. I think I need to see proof.”

Dirk’s face darkens. “No,” he says flatly, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his hard-set mouth that definitely means something encouraging. Dave pushes his advantage, sliding his fingers a little further under Dirk’s shorts and caressing the hot skin of his upper thigh enticingly. The twitch gets more pronounced.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” comes Dirk’s loud, unconvincing reply, before Dave’s sentence is even fully out of his mouth.

“Weren’t you going to take off your pants anyway? In like a few minutes? We were going pretty hot and heavy, bro.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve never taken them off before,” Dirk points out stiffly.

“You’ve never taken off your pants before?” 

“You know what I meant.” He pauses, then, a little self-consciously: “I didn’t want to assume. Is this interrogation necessary?” Dirk leans up, like he’s going to try to resume kissing Dave, but Dave dodges. He will have none of this transparent ruse. His eyes are on the prize—well, actually just his hands are on the prize, but he’s determined to get his eyes on it too.

“It absolutely is, because you won’t show me your sexy lace stockings.”

“There’s no lace.” Dirk seems to process the rest of the sentence a little more slowly, his jaw working thoughtfully. “Sexy?”

“Sure. Sexy is good, right? You wanna be sexy. You should show me.”

Dirk looks like he’s working out if he wants to actually say what’s on his mind. Dave, familiar with the process by now, stays silent, waiting for his answer. “I’m not sure thigh high stockings sexy is the kind of sexy I want to project.”

“That’s fair,” Dave says soothingly, sliding his hand out of Dirk’s pant leg to trace along the waistband instead. “That’s understandable. I’mma counter with this: I really want to take your pants off, and I’m willing to do it right now.”

Dirk twitches again. “Solid negotiating technique.” He pauses, sounds uncertain. “You’re really comfortable with that?” It squeezes Dave’s heart, how careful he’s being, but he understands it, and it merits more serious discussion. Gently, he pushes at Dirk’s shoulder, encouraging him to roll off onto his back. When he does, Dave sits up next to him—Dirk follows suit, ever reluctant to take a more vulnerable position—and takes his hand.

“Yeah, bro, I’m comfortable with it. That’s why I asked.” There’s wry humor in his voice, and tenderness.

Dirk regards him thoughtfully. “I thought you were just fucking with me.”

“I can do two things,” Dave grins, “but I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it. That’s not cool.”

“Fair enough.” Dirk shifts his hand in Dave’s, twining their fingers together. The simple gesture makes warmth bloom in Dave’s chest.

“Are _you_ comfy with it?” Dave asks seriously. “Did I overstep?”

“No,” Dirk says, so hastily that Dave can’t tell if it’s honest or if he’s just trying to spare Dave’s feelings. “Nah, I don’t think so. If I’m being honest, I’ve imagined undressing you quite a few times.”

“Not exactly news, bro,” Dave grins.

“Shut your cocksucking mouth,” Dirk retorts casually, without heat. Dave restrains himself from pointing out that since Karkat doesn’t technically have a cock, that’s not an accurate insult, and then immediately has to also restrain himself from asking Dirk if it was an implicit invitation. “Stockings are just not… how I would choose to present myself. Given the choice.”

“Well shit, Dirk, you got a choice. I can take your pants off anytime. Like when you’re wearing different pants. Normal non-poofy ones, without any sexy stockings or anything.”

The corner of Dirk’s mouth tugs up slightly. “I believe that’s a fair fuckin’ compromise. I’ve got some ideas myself.”

“Cool. You should definitely tell me about those some time.” Dave smiles, kind of goofily. “Wanna make out some more?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Dirk practically tackles Dave, and bears him down giggling onto the pillows. Shit heats up again quickly—sometimes it seems just looking at Dave is enough to get Dirk hot, and for Dave that in itself is the biggest turn-on imaginable. Once he’s kissed Dave breathless, Dirk returns to that spot behind his ear, and stays there, sucking and licking and nibbling until Dave is squirming and whining under him. He’s hard in minutes, rutting his hips up against Dirk’s, but Dirk just moves down his neck, pulling his shirt aside to suck at his collarbones.

“Jesus, Dirk,” he pants, “if you’re gonna keep doing that, you better be ready to deal with the consequences in my shorts.” Dirk responds with a bite that is not at all gentle, and Dave almost shouts.

“Shhh,” Dirk chides, clearly riding a power trip like the annoyingly hot jackass he is. Christ, he shifts gears so fast it makes Dave dizzy. “Don’t you want to see what I’ve got under these poofy asshole pants?”

Dave goes still. “Uh. Yes? Is that on the table?”

Dirk lifts his head so he can look Dave in the eye. He’s got his smug asshole face on, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes. “Are you going to be good?” Abruptly, Dave understands. Control makes all the difference. This is how Dirk is going to be comfortable with giving Dave this thing that he very much wants. He swallows and nods, and is rewarded with an imperious smile that makes his dick throb. Then Dirk’s heat and weight are gone from his body, and then Dirk is standing next to the bed, hands working at his fly.

“Eyes on me, Dave,” he says, as if Dave would be looking anywhere else right now. The pants drop, and his mouth goes dry. For what must be at least a solid minute, he just stares. The stockings, opaque white, end at mid thigh, and above that is several bare inches of dark skin, framing white briefs with a distinct bulge straining at the fabric.

“Dave?” Dirk prompts, his voice amused and rough with arousal.

“I like it,” Dave says stupidly. A pause, then, “Please will you get your annoyingly hot ass back on the bed.”

Dirk grins openly. “Well, since you asked nicely.” He crawls over Dave like a cat, pinning his hands when they reach for his body. Dave whines and is immediately silenced by Dirk’s hot mouth descending on his. He tugs at Dirk’s grip (kind of half-heartedly, ‘cause Dirk holding him down is pretty hot), but Dirk doesn’t release him until he finally lies still. His newly freed hands fly to Dirk’s thighs, feeling the hot skin as Dirk’s hips lock into his and rut in half-controlled rhythm.

They’re both pent up as hell; it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before Dirk goes stiff and pants his orgasm into Dave’s ear. His brother follows shortly after, warmth flooding his nerve endings and his… well, there’s another flood happening in his pants. That’s gonna be sticky and uncomfortable once the afterglow wears off, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Once they’ve cleaned each other up, they curl up together on the bed, face to face, half dressed and limbs entwined.

“Dave?”

Dave murmurs wordlessly in acknowledgment, nestling his face more firmly against Dirks chest.

“I’m just wondering. Do you stop in the middle of macking on Karkat to interrogate him about his undergarments?” He asks the question in a carefully casual tone. Dave lets out a startled laugh.

“Fuck no, dude, he couldn’t take it. His tantrums are hilarious and all, but I’m not about setting one off while he’s sitting on my dick. What if he had a conniption too hard and ruptured my nutsack or something?” Dirk’s answering laugh is gratifying, and a relief. “I’m serious, though. What I got with you is totally different than me and him. That’s why it’s good.”

Dirk lifts his hand to Dave’s hair and threads his fingers through it tenderly, then presses a soft kiss to his forehead—like for once he finds his own words inadequate.

It’s answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> personally i see dirk as a boxers man but those don't make for a very striking visual in combination with stockings so i fudged it in a wildly self-indulgent manner


End file.
